


Agents of LOKI

by Sefiru



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Frosthawk - Freeform, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra, Mentions of Violence, Minion Clint, Odin's A+ Parenting, Possessive Loki, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-09 09:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12884622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sefiru/pseuds/Sefiru
Summary: HYDRA wants an alliance with Loki, and to sweeten the deal they offer him a captive Hawkeye. Bad idea.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This begins after the events of _The Winter Soldier_ , but assumes that none of the other movies after _The Avengers_ happened (ie no _The Dark World_ )

Curiosity impelled Loki to meet with the humans. They called themselves HYDRA and somehow they had located his access points in the Midgardian Internet, and used them to contact him. They proposed an alliance, and the notion was sufficiently amusing that he agreed to meet them.

The location was an abandoned warehouse in Prague. HYDRA had it surrounded with cordons of armed agents; Loki simply stepped out of his hidden paths in their midst. “You desired an audience.”

“We want to make a deal,” said their leader, and the verbal fencing commenced. The HYDRA officer offered the commonplaces of power, riches, and vengeance on his enemies, while Loki feigned interest. He knew what HYDRA was, of course. He had learned of them, their methods and their goals during his deliberately abortive attempt at world conquest. There was no chance he would ever honor a deal with them; he gave no hint of this as the HYDRA representative ended his spiel. “As a token of good faith, we present you with a gift.”

Two goons brought forward a shackled figure. A familiar figure. His Hawk. It was a bittersweet thought; Barton had been the most capable of his Midgardian minions, certainly the most reliable, yet the means used to bind him could breed nothing but hatred, once loosed. “A man who has betrayed you in the past,” announced the HYDRA agent. With effort, Loki pinned a smirk on his face.

“This pleases me.” He plucked Barton off the cold floor and draped him over his arm. “You shall know my response before long.” He vanished into the hidden paths with his burden. Once he was clear, he snorted softly. “It pleases me to have you away from such vermin.” 

His Hawk did not respond. He was clearly awake, but he had been wounded in battle, denied rest and food, and perhaps beaten by his captors. Swift strides brought Loki to his sanctuary, a fortress that existed both in Asgard and in the spaces between realms. Once within, he laid his Hawk on the guest bed and withdrew a healing stone from the bedside table. (His most frequent guest was Thor after an escapade; he had long since learned to be prepared.) The stone began its work, and Loki struck off the shackles from his Hawk’s limbs.

“Sleep. Let the stone heal you.”

“You don’t get to give me orders.”

“Do I not?” The protest was expected, but no less bitter for it. Loki swept out of the room, as much to conceal his dismay as to let his Hawk rest.


	2. Chapter 2

Clint wasn’t sure what to think right now. Getting captured and worked over by HYDRA was painful, but he was trained for that. Prisoner trades were nothing new either. Landing in Loki’s hands again, though… HYDRA assumed that Loki would want revenge on him, but the Asgardian was acting as if nothing had changed. As if Clint was still his minion. Even called him ‘my Hawk,’ and hadn’t that brought back some memories.

He had been under Loki’s control for a week; he was pissed off at _how_ it had been done, but he also remembered what it felt like. For a week, he had _believed_. For a week, he had been _trusted_. The number of people who trusted Clint, he could count on one hand; those he could call ‘sir’ without sarcasm were even fewer. The worst part had been finding out that it was all _fake_.

Or was it? Loki wasn’t treating him as an enemy right now. He seemed outraged at HYDRA’s actions, in fact. Was the Asgardian delusional? Clint slept, and woke fully healed, and found an ensuite bathroom with a change of clothes folded on the counter. And where had _those_ come from? Once he was cleaned up, he tried the door, found it unlocked, and ventured outside.

The next room was big open space, with a table at one end full of breakfast food. Loki lounged on a chair nearby, a book in one hand and a steaming mug beside him. He waved at the food in invitation.

Clint hadn’t eaten in days. He took a plate and started loading it. “So why aren’t you, like, in jail?”

***

Loki had expected a question of that sort. Without looking up he answered, “There were mitigating circumstances. And what of you, my Hawk? How came you to the pass I found you in?”

Clint swallowed a mouthful of bread. “HYDRA took down SHIELD. Hard. It was an inside job. The rest you know.”

Loki snorted. “They offered me vengeance, power, wealth; do they think I can be lured by such trifles?”

“If they’re going by Stuttgart and New York, then yeah,” said his Hawk.

Ignorance would not spare them. They had touched what was his – once, if not now – and Loki would take great pleasure in destroying them. He was out and about for most of the day, beginning the groundwork for just that. Strictly speaking he was not to travel to Midgard by the terms of his “convalescence,” but when had that ever restricted him? He returned just as dusk was falling, and to his surprise, his Hawk was still present. The archer was perched on a rafter in the main hall, running a purloined arrow through his fingers and staring into space.

“You have not flown, my Hawk.”

“You’re surprised? I’m surprised you haven’t mind-screwed me into staying.”

“That was the scepter’s power, not mine. And ultimately, such false loyalty failed to satisfy.”

Clint leaned his head back against the wall. “I hear you.” Before Loki could parse that remark, he went on, “Where would I go? SHIELD is gone, and they’d never take me back anyway, Phil is dead, and Natasha has gone to ground so deep that no one can find her.”

“And your avenging friends?”

“Too public; I’ve got a price on my head, I’d end up dragging them down with me.”

“My door shall never be barred to you, my hawk. From either side.” He walked away, his mind still on Clint’s odd comment.


	3. Chapter 3

Clint spent the next few days exploring Loki’s lair. The place was big, a maze of labs and libraries, and it was utterly empty. Not a single security guard or janitor. Sure, something was keeping the place clean, but he was sure it wasn’t alive; like a magical roomba or something. The same went for the buffet table that was always full of food. No one ever visited, even to make deliveries. And Loki looked continually surprised that Clint hadn’t left yet.

“How can you bear my presence,” he said one evening, “After what I have done?”

“Oh, like my hands are so squeaky clean; you know what I did for a living. Brainwashing happens. R and D was pissed off that they couldn’t copy it.” And because he didn’t want to think about the other reason he wasn’t angry, “Why aren’t you pissed at me for fighting against you afterward?”

“None serve me willingly.” He was being honest; that was a bad sign. Clint waited silently for the counterattack. “Do you forget that I caused you to pluck out the eye of an innocent man?”

Clint gave him an ‘oh, come on’ face. “You know I’ve done worse for worse reasons.”

“I attempted to conquer your planet!”

“That wasn’t your plan, that was whoever was pulling your strings. You were totally double-crossing them.”

Loki went very still, though his voice stayed light. “To what end, my Hawk?”

“Suicide by cop, on a grand scale.”

“You see clearly, my Hawk.” Loki spoke barely above a whisper.

***

If asked, Loki would forever deny that he considered fleeing from his Hawk. It was, nonetheless, true. To hear his darkest secret from the lips of another – it had brought him to the verge of panic. Were it anyone else, he would have denied it with all his skill. And yet, who else could know? None but his Hawk had stood guard while he tended his wounds; none but he had watched over his scant and restless sleep. And he knew, by subtle signs, that Clint had never spoken it before. Why? The man had almost put an arrow through his eye in New York, so why had he not tried to slay him here? Did he not know the reasons Loki deserved death?

“Should I not die, my Hawk? I am a monster.”

“Bullshit.” A pause, while Loki stared, the Clint continued, “Look, when you had me and Selvig and the rest – you could have done anything you wanted. And you know what? You were pretty good to us.”

That surely was not a hint of wistfulness in his Hawk’s voice? He was imagining things; overwrought, no doubt, by the emotional conversation. “The hour grows late; we both require rest.”

He turned to leave, expecting another complaint about giving orders. It did not come.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, Clint was up on one of his usual perches, honing a set of throwing knives he’d found in the armory. Having down time was good, but he was starting to get bored. And curious about what Loki was up to. And … maybe what he remembered didn’t have to be fake. He had been thinking for a while now, and yesterday’s conversation was the final piece of the puzzle.

Loki strolled into the room, looking like he had barely slept, and made a beeline for the teapot. He glanced up at Clint as he passed. “Why are you still here, my Hawk?” he asked mildly.

Clint shrugged. “Why are you still calling me your Hawk?” he answered in the same tone. It didn’t take an agent’s honed instinct to know that this was the moment to act. He took a deep breath, and dropped off his perch to walk at Loki’s side. “What’s the plan, Sir?”

A tiny hitch in Loki’s stride was the only visible reaction. He continued to the buffet and poured a cup of tea, before turning to face Clint. “HYDRA will burn, my Hawk.”

*** 

After that, Loki started sending Clint on errands. Simple things; deliver this message, buy this item, eavesdrop on this meeting. The point of them was to train Clint in using the hidden paths and magical communication, and to get him used to Loki as a handler. Clint was having the time of his life. And Loki was _spectacular_.

Case in point: he sent Clint to destroy a potted plant in Lisbon, leading to an argument which ended in a HYDRA cell literally going up in flames. Clint slipped in under the smoke and swapped a hard drive for a charred duplicate; HYDRA blamed the whole thing on squirrels.


	5. Chapter 5

Loki, too, was having great fun sowing dissent and confusion within HYDRA. He found unlooked-for contentment in directing and tending his Hawk; directing, because Barton was a warrior of nigh-unmatched skill and guile. Tending, because he had a tendency of putting his orders before his well-being which was gratifying and exasperating in equal measure.

Loki’s heart nearly froze the first time his Hawk was shot. He was monitoring him through a sound-only scrying, due to the distances involved, so the first sign of trouble was a shift in Clint’s voice. Loki knew the sound of pain; at once he snapped, “How are you injured, my Hawk?”

“Not a problem, Sir, I can complete the mission.”

“That is not what I asked.”

“Hold five.” Five minutes turned into ten while Loki ground his teeth. Eventually Clint said, “I’m at the extraction point and through the wards. Returning to base.” His voice was now grey from overexertion.

“Stay where you are!” Loki leapt up from his scrying table, calling a healing stone to his hand.

Clint was standing in the middle of the hidden path, one hand clutching his ribs and an obvious gunshot wound in his thigh. Without a word Loki levitated him off the ground and shoved the healing stone against his chest.

“I can walk, Sir,” Clint protested.

“You need not and you ought not, my Hawk. Rest assured, we will discuss this when you are well. _In detail._ ”

*** 

Clint stood at parade rest, eyes forward and consciously not tracking Loki, who circled around him like a hungry panther.

“When I ask you a question,” Loki said, “During a mission or otherwise, I expect an accurate answer. And I do not tolerate harm to one who is mine, even from themselves.”

Clint opened his mouth to say that his wounds hadn’t been that bad, and anyway the healing spell had taken care of everything. Loki stopped him with a raised finger. “Your well-being is not a trivial matter. It seems I must find a way to impress upon you the meaning of self-preservation.”

“Uh, Sir, how are you going to do that without harming me more?”

Loki got right up in his face. “Do you doubt my ingenuity?”

“No, Sir!”

And that is how Clint Barton, AKA Hawkeye, deadly SHIELD agent and erstwhile Avenger, spent a day as a street mime in Paris. He earned thirty-five Euros.


	6. Chapter 6

As weeks went by, Loki told Clint more about his past. This might have been a last-ditch effort to repulse Clint with his supposed wrongdoings, but Clint was getting a far different picture. A nerd in jocksville; an unfavored second son, a prince who got no respect. A father to four children: two exiled, one imprisoned for something he hadn’t even done yet, and one held hostage by his own grandfather. Finding out he was not just adopted, but an adopted enemy. No wonder he’d gone straight off the deep end. 

Nor had Loki escaped consequences for his actions on Earth: he was technically under house arrest, forbidden to leave for more than a day or to have visitors other than family. The doors that Asgard knew about were watched, and he was required to appear at the Royal Court regularly.

Those appearances were hard on Loki; the first time Clint saw him return from one, he took one look and steered his handler to a chair, then went to pour him a cup of tea.

“I am not an invalid,” Loki complained.

“Sir, as someone fairly smart told me, your well-being is not a trivial matter.”

That got a wan smile. “Do as I say, not as I do, my Hawk.” But Loki did drink the tea, so Clint counted that as a win. 

“Next time, you will accompany me.”

“Yes, Sir.” Clint was surprised, but pleased; he hadn’t expected to make any public appearances so soon. But then, Loki was just as interested as him in making this happen.

“You will need instruction on protocol. And formal attire, either of Asgard or Midgard.”

“Hmm. Have you got a route to Istanbul? I might know a guy.”


	7. Chapter 7

Before Court, however, Loki had a different sort of meeting to attend to. “HYDRA has made contact again,” he told Clint. “One Baron von Strucker wishes to meet me, and has hinted at whether I am enjoying their so-called gift.”

“So you want to knock me around to give them a good show, Sir?” By this time Loki was aware that his Hawk was committed to obey him even to the point of torture; not that Loki intended to permit that.

“I hardly think that’s necessary,” Loki answered him. “Unless your acting skills have diminished in recent weeks.”

“As if, Sir.” Clint grinned. “I guess you’re supplying the makeup?”

“Of course.”

The skill needed to apply illusions of torture wounds was trivial; the memories it stirred up were more difficult, though that enabled him to project the correct degree of anger during his performance. 

His venue this time was a disused Belgian country house. With his Hawk (apparently) shackled to a table on display, he spun a lace of flattery and invective which convinced von Strucker that Loki was the firmest of allies. The baron was particularly pleased when Loki sent bolts of lightning at his ‘captive’, causing Clint to writhe and scream. In reality the bolts had no effect beyond a tingle to cue Clint to react.

Clint’s acting skills had _not_ diminished; for an instant Loki thought he had caused real damage. He probed his Hawk’s mind and got a smug response of, _“Made you look.”_

*** 

Clint disrupted the illusions on him the moment they were clear. It was obvious (to him) that Loki was not dealing well even with simulated torture. 

“Sir, look at me. I’m not actually hurt, remember.” Loki blinked at him. “If I asked if you were all right, would you give me a straight answer?”

“When do I ever, my Hawk?”

“What I thought. Sit down, Sir, I’ll ge the tea.” Come to think of it, had Loki ever had any formal SERE training? Asgard didn’t sound like a place that knew squat about it. “Sir, that illusion you put on me. Someone did all that to you, didn’t they.”

Loki glowered at him. “How …?”

“I’m not blind, Sir.” That got a snort. “Seriously. You’ve got balls, Sir. I know trained agents who’d be curled up in a corner right now.”

“A tempting prospect, to be sure.”

Wait, did Loki just admit weakness? Without flying into a rage? Clint brought him the tea and went back to the buffet. “If I bring you some food, are you going to keep it down?”

Loki actually thought about it before answering. “Perhaps some bread.”

“Yes, Sir.”


	8. Chapter 8

The suit was ready in time for the next Court session. Mr Hafiz had cut it so Clint had full range of motion in his arms, without it looking baggy; that was why it was worth it to go all the way to Istanbul for a tailor.

“How do I look, Sir?”

Loki’s eyebrows lifted, and the corners of his lips quirked up, so Clint knew he had chosen well. The suit was charcoal grey with a white shirt, and along with it he was wearing a green-and-gold striped necktie and gold and emerald cuff links.

“You are a marvel, my Hawk,” Loki said softly. “You do me great honor.”

“It’s about time someone did, Sir.” 

*** 

They turned heads when they walked into Odin’s great hall. Clint had his bow and quiver slung over his suit; Loki wasn’t visibly armed, but then he didn’t need to be. Whispers and stares followed them all the way to Odin’s throne, where Loki bowed as shallowly as he could get away with. Clint mimicked him.

“Who is this?” demanded Odin. “You know that the bindings on you forbid receiving guests.”

“They say nothing of taking on staff,” Loki responded. They probably would have forbidden that, too, if they’d imagined anyone wanting to work for him. Dicks.

Apparently everyone was supposed to pretend that Loki was there voluntarily. Loki worked the room like a pro, and within an hour he knew more about the current court gossip than anyone else there; he never showed a hint of the strain he was feeling. On the other hand, the Asgardians stared at him like he was back in the circus – in the sideshow. They tossed around crass remarks about Loki’s masculinity and sly questions about whether Clint actually knew how to use his bow.

“Shall we have a demonstration?” Loki said. Of course, he and Clint had planned for this.

The Asgardians cleared a lane between Clint and the far wall as he unslung his bow. “What’s my target, Sir?”

Loki pulled a ring from his finger and flipped it into the air.

Track-nock-draw-loose-THWOCK. The arrow stuck deep in the wall, the ring looped neatly around its shaft. “Next?” asked Clint.

“I believe that is sufficient for the nonce.” Loki pulled the arrow out of the wall, retrieved his ring, and handed the arrow back to Clint.

‘You’re no fun, Sir.”

“Patience, my Hawk.” In the circus, there would have been applause. Here, there was only a brief silence before people went back to their conversations. Clint and Loki traded an exasperated glance.

And then a voice yelled over the crowd: “Brother! I did not know you would be here today!” Standing at the doors of the hall were Thor and Tony Stark.


	9. Chapter 9

The first thing out of Tony’s mouth was, “Oh my god, you’re wearing his brand.”

“I see no such marking, friend Stark,” said Thor.

“Not that kind of brand, Fabio. I mean, he’s wearing his colors.”

Thor examined the two of them. “Verily! I am surprised, friend Barton. I did not know that you were on speaking terms with my brother.”

“Yeah, man, are you, like, OK?” added Stark.

Clint rolled his eyes. “Nobody roofied me, Tony, I’m fine. You kinda had to be there.” He didn’t expect them to understand. Coulson might have. At least Stark had his own share of had-to-be-there moments; he half-shrugged, and looked around at the Asgarians who were still giving them the side-eye.

“So, you and Loki. I’m getting the impression that this has never been done before.” 

“Innovation is a hallmark of intelligence, Mr Stark,” said Loki. He smirked; Stark grinned back at him. But before they could start in on each other, Thor said,

“I bring greetings from Sleipnir, Brother; he wishes you to know he is well.”

“That makes good hearing.” Among other dickery, Loki wasn’t allowed anywhere in Odin’s palace but the great hall – not even the stables where his child lived. “I have not seen him or Fenrir since, well …”

“I would fain bring news of Fenrir also, did I but know where he lay bound.”

“Perhaps I shall send my Hawk to him. Let us speak no more of it.” There was a whole press release between the lines of that bit of conversation, and Clint tucked it into his memory for later unravelling.

Meanwhile, Stark was scawling something on a notepad. “Don’t be a stranger, Legolas; email me.” He handed over the note, which was a jumble of letters and numbers – a public encryption key.

“Does Pepper know you’re giving people your number?” Clint put the paper in his pocket. “If you hear from Natasha, can you let her know I’m all right?”

“Can do. Now, Reindeer Games, what were you saying about intelligence?”

“Why, Mr Stark, I believed that you had a passing acquaintance with the concept. Was I perhaps mistaken?”

It was too bad that Asgard didn’t have popcorn.


	10. Chapter 10

Clint emerged from the hidden paths on a hill in the ass-end of nowhere. Seriously, even with magical travel it still took him most of a day to get here. And there was not so much as a weed on the ground – not a single living thing in sight, except for the giant wolf chained to a boulder on the hilltop.

“That’s just not right,” Clint muttered. Not only were Fenrir’s legs bound so tight they could barely move, there was a sword wedging his jaws open. Clint approached from upwind. “Hey there. I’m Hawkeye, Loki sent me.”

That got him a side-eye and a curious whine.

‘Yeah, I know, I’m Midgardian. See, it’s like this …” He rambled on, describing basically his whole career, while he got supplies out of his pack and gave Fenrir a thorough brushing. There was just enough slack in the chains to get the brush under them, but not enough for Fenrir to change position. How many years had he been here? Clint was impressed that the guy was tracking at all. 

After the brush came a jar of salve for the sores that the chains left, and a potion he was supposed to pour down Fenrir’s throat. ‘This is messed up,” Clint told him. “You haven’t even done anything.”

Fenrir made a grumbling sound in response. According to Loki, he could talk when he wasn’t gagged with a freaking sword.

“Did I forget anything?” Clint asked. Fenrir shook his head as far as he was able. That gave Clint an idea; he took out his sniping mat and unrolled it. “Here, lift your head a bit.” He slid the mat under Fenrir’s chin. “It’s not much, but it’s something, right?”

He was going to need a nap before heading back up the hidden path, so he found a sort-of comfortable spot to perch on the rock beside the wolf’s head. “Odin’s a real piece of work, you know that, right? Here’s what I figure: Loki can’t leave his house for more than twenty-four hours, which, what a coincidence, isn’t long enough to get here and back. Thor wants to come visit you, but he doesn’t know where you’re at. I’m guessing nobody’s allowed to tell him, including Loki, but Loki specifically didn’t tell me that. And since I technically don’t know I’m not supposed to, I _can_ tell Thor you’re here. Are you OK with that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is as much as I had pre-written, so, watch this space. I'm going to be posting more stories from my backlog before coming back to this one, but I have more ideas for this verse. Including: Free Fenrir, gender-bending Loki, and Coulson Lives.


End file.
